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I suppose he had only himself to blame, but it meant that many interesting
episodes in his life that would have been treasured, were so mixed up with silly
yarns, that people couldn't be bothered going to the trouble of sorting the gold
from the dross.
To illustrate the point I'm making, I remember him talking about his early
years when he lived in China and Japan, and things he was involved in doing when the
Russo-japanese War broke out. I remember him droning away about how the war
developed over rivalry between them both wanting bits of China; how the British
supported the Japanese because the Russians had attacked some British trawlers;
and how the Japanese ships had been built by the British and the Brits were on
the Japanese ships as 'observers'. He went on to tell how the Russians under
Admiral such and such, sailed around to Port Arthur in 1905, and they fought a
great naval battle against the Japanese, who nobody had really given an outside
chance of beating the Russians.
He was remarkably well informed on detail on such incidents. He knew the
names of the participants and the dates of the key events, and his yarns were
lengthy and interesting. All good 'Boys Own Paper' type stuff. I remember I was sitting on the edge of my chair enthralled,
listening to the story of the Russo-japanese War, and finally I got a chance to ask
him a question.
"When the battle of Tsushima took place, where were you,
Grandad?"
"Oh, I was back in port with my Geisha girl," he answered with
a completely straight face.
There was a snort from Nan, who, beside herself, had also been listening with
interest whilst she did the ironing or something and she flounced out of the
room muttering something, or other, under her breath.
"What's a Geisha girl, Grandad?" I asked innocently.
"Oh, they're just a pretty little girl who sees that you're properly
tucked up in bed each night," he laughed.
Nan snorted again from the kitchen, having continued listening in spite of
herself. "Archie, that's enough," she said warningly, and I was
sufficiently knowledgeable to know that Grandad was getting a bit near the mark,
even if I didn't understand what he was talking about. So I persisted.
"What was her name?" I asked.
"What was whose name?"
"Your Geisha girl's name. You know, the little girl who tucked you into
bed each night."
"Oh, that girl. Her name was Aytosha."
"That will do, Archie," ordered my Nan, and with that the
conversation was closed.
Now the point I'm trying to make, is that Grandad had spent half an hour
telling me all sorts of interesting things about sailing the China seas, what
ships he was on, and who won the Russo-japanese war; but all I had in my mind
was that when he was living in China, a pretty little girl named Aytosha would
tuck him up in bed each night. Little wonder, when I got home and said to Mum or
Dad, "Did you know that Grandad once had his own Geisha girl," they
would shake their heads in disbelief. Whatever would the old fool be telling the
children next!
Over the years the story of Aytosha became something of a family legend.
Jeffrey and even Steve, I think, would ask him to tell them a story about
Aytosha, and he'd ham up to them, so that they'd end up in giggling fits. He was
just a lovable old softie who was happiest making us happy too.
It wasn't until at least 30 years later, whilst I was watching an old pre-war
British black and white movie, that the penny dropped. A group of Cockney
servicemen - one was Ronald Shiner I think, were in some Oriental 'night-club'
or other. They were seated around a table, eating and getting steadily more and
more intoxicated. As they became more drunk, they became more demanding of the
Oriental 'waitresses'.
"Hey, Tosher, where's that drink I ordered," yelled out one of them
in a broad Cockney accent, and then I saw it all. There was my Grandad, and
there was Aytosha, and if he was young and single, good luck to him too.
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